Secrets
by dullahan21
Summary: She had admitted to herself that she was attracted to him. However, she knew it was all nothing more than a night of fun and touring with a stranger in Tokyo. She'd go on with her life, never to see him again. AU
1. Chapter 1

**NOTES: Inspired by the song "Last Name" by Carrie Underwood.**

**This story was originally written with my own characters; it has been mostly altered to fit canon appearances, but other than that, some characters may be OOC.**

**DISCLAIMERS: Tite Kubo is the owner of Bleach and its characters.  
**

* * *

Her first thought when they met was that he was cute.

His face was handsome, kind, and sharp, his eyes a medium brown. His blonde hair, cut to his shoulders, his bangs concealing most of his forehead, looked soft to the touch, and she had to resist the urge to run her fingers through it. He had a wide, enticing smile, and a smooth tenor voice. He wore a newsboy cap atop his head, and his clothes were formal, black slacks and a button-up shirt, attire that suited his tall, lean frame.

She was surprised when he sat down next to her and started a conversation with her. She had expected him to approach a friend or one of the taller, more voluptuous groups of women, but he didn't seem to recognize or particularly notice or care for anyone. She watched as he walked through the door of the bar, scanned the room, his sight fell on her sitting alone watching everyone else.

Their eyes met, and after a short pause, he crossed the room to stand next to her table. He gestured to the empty seat across from her. "Mind if I sit?"

Such a gentleman to ask. She considered, thinking, 'I don't know why you chose me of all people, but you seem nice, so why not?' She shrugged. "Sure. All yours."

"Thank you." He pulled out the chair and took a seat. She pushed an unopened bottle of vodka towards him. He accepted with another quiet, "Thanks."

"No problem," she said as she took a drink from her own bottle. She noticed him staring at her; instead of being freaked out, she only asked, "What are you seeing?"

"You seem half-drunk already," he observed.

"Well, I've been here longer than you have," she said in a tone that told him her statement was obvious.

"True. Enjoying yourself?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's alright." Her voice was uninterested now, as if she were bored by the small talk, and she swallowed another mouthful of the alcohol.

"Drinking away your troubles?" he asked, bringing the bottle to his lips.

"Sort of," she said casually, like it was perfectly normal.

"Drinking doesn't solve your problems," he pointed out.

She sent him a light glare, her eyes glazed. "Maybe not, but it dulls them for awhile, and that's good enough for me for now. That, and drinking is fun," she added.

He laughed. "That it is," he concurred, finishing his agreement by taking a second drink.

She stared at him curiously for a few seconds, which he noticed, and he asked, "So what is it you like to do outside the bar?"

"Hmm." She examined the bottle in her hand, reading the labels and ingredients. "Not much. I'm kind of boring. I like reading, writing, jogging. A little singing on the side."

"Have I read anything of yours?" he wondered aloud.

She smiled and shook her head. "Doubt it. It's just a hobby. I've never been published. Don't really want to be, either. I'd like to keep my writing for myself."

He nodded in understanding. "Do you sing at home, or perform somewhere?"

"I perform if I get the chance, when I'm not busy. That arts club a few blocks away lets anyone on the stage."

"So, what, you're not a good singer?" he teased.

"No, it's not that," she denied with a smirk. "You just don't have to be particularly talented at the arts to perform. The owner of the club is nice like that, puts everyone in the spotlight if they want it."

"Ah, I see," he said with another nod. "I'll have to drop by sometime, catch a skit or two. Maybe you'll be up there."

"What about you?" she asked in return, diverting the concentration away from her and to him. "What's your life like?"

"I'm like you with the writing. That, and the music, except I don't sing. I play instruments."

"What do you play?"

"The piano and the saxophone." He wouldn't deny that it was his best skill, but he tried not to sound too proud of himself.

She took no notice of it. "Do you perform, or just keep it to yourself like I do with my writing?"

"No, just a hobby," he said, mimicking her earlier words. "Like your writing."

"That's too bad," she remarked. "The arts club would be a perfect place for that. Not many people playing instruments, just singers and poets and stupid comedians."

He shook his head. "No, I don't think so. I'm not shy, but I'm also not fond of the stage."

"Why? Bad memory?"

He shrugged. "You could say that."

Now she changed the subject from hobbies to careers. "So what's your job, then? What do you do for a living in this cold world?"

"I'm a reporter for this cold world," he said simply.

She suddenly looked guarded. "Are you?"

"Nothing big," he clarified. "One of those obscure magazines hardly anyone reads, but I get by, save as much as I can."

She didn't reply to that, so he asked, "And you? What do you do?"

She gave a low laugh. "I'm in unexciting business."

"What kind of business?"

A moment passed with no response, before she finally gave a vague answer. "Part-time waitress, part-time underground work."

For the former, he asked, "What restaurant do you waitress at?"

She waved a hand dismissively. "Nothing fancy, sadly. Just that breakfast place downtown. Good for families, but you're welcome to eat there if you please."

For the latter, he knew what she was implying, but his curiosity kept his questions going. "You said you also worked for the underground. Do you mean like an informant or something?"

"I can't tell you anything specific," she refused. "Sorry."

He couldn't help himself. "Why not?"

"Well, you know," she said, suspicion settling in, wondering how he was so alert and inquisitive for being intoxicated. She tried to relax with humor. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

He laughed. "You're cute, you know that?"

"So are you," she replied. "The first thing I thought when you walked in."

He looked as if he didn't believe her. "Really? Sure you're not just saying that to be nice or because I called you cute first?"

"Really," she insisted. "I'm not the type to say things I don't mean."

He looked her over, thinking about how he'd called her cute, but not being able to identify her. He wanted something to call her. "You know, I just realized that I don't even know your name."

She stared at him, her hazy eyes indecisive, as if trying to decide whether or not to tell him who she was. Then again, it wasn't like she had to reveal her full name, or report her life autobiography to him. She sighed, and just settled on her first initial. "It's Hiyori."

"Hiyori," he repeated, appreciating the sound of her title. "That's a pretty name. I'm Shinji."

"Common name," she commented. "I'll remember it."

"Yours isn't," he countered. "I've already forgotten it."

She didn't look insulted as he'd expected, smiling instead. "That's the alcohol, not your memory."

He laughed again, suddenly thinking to himself how easy this woman, Hiyori, was to talk to. She seemed so serene and laid-back and funny. It could have been the alcoholic side of her personality, and he had no idea what she was like sober, but at the moment, he didn't care. He was just savoring the time with her, this woman he'd only just met.

That, and she certainly was pretty. He let his eyes drift over her again as her attention was focused on the vodka. He took in her blonde hair let down around her shoulders, her bangs pinned down by clips, her soft face, brown eyes, pale skin. She was attractive, desirable, as he also noticed the black dress that subtly flaunted her average breasts, smooth curves, slender legs.

He had to mentally scold himself to force his mind back into the present. "So, Hiyori, I have a proposal."

Her focus snapped from the bottle to the man speaking to her, surprised he was already using her name. "What would that be?"

"You ever been to the big city of Tokyo?"

She hesitated, as if unwilling to answer or trying to think of something to say. "No. I like to keep to the outskirts, like this lovely placid small-town bar."

He wondered what she was nervous about, but didn't ask. "Would you like to go?"

She was silent, thinking it over. Her eyes drifted over the bottle again before she looked back up at him. "Why? I don't even know you. You could be a serial killer for all I know."

He smiled. "True. Guess you'll just have to either stay here in a boring small-town bar, or take the risk of life and come with me. I can promise, however, that you will make it back home very much alive."

She took another moment to ponder the thought, and she had to admit it did sound tempting to her. "Will there be alcohol involved?"

"Would you like there to be?" he asked.

"Of course. As you said, I'm stressed and need to drink my problems away."

"Then you can have all the alcohol you want," he offered.

"You seem like a fun guy," she observed.

"Do I? I've never been told that before."

"Well, then, whoever you've hung around with before me is ignorant," she scoffed. "Now I'm telling you that you are, as long as you take me to Tokyo."

"I'll definitely take you to Tokyo," he assured.

"Let's go, then," she said as a final word, her voice a challenge.

* * *

She wasn't sure how the rest of the night happened. She recalled blurry images of lights, crowds, music. For some reason, there was a formal building with people in dresses and tuxedos gathered together for some sort of ceremony. Later, there was a fancy hotel with elegantly-patterned carpet floors, an elevator with glass walls, and a comfortable room with a golden bed frame and white sheets. She didn't know how it all occurred, but the alcohol in her blood held her back from asking herself any questions, accepting it all as normal.

She didn't know why Shinji had said no one had ever told him he was a fun guy. As far as she was concerned, the man knew how to have a good time, knew how to make her feel good and happy. He took her through half of Tokyo, showing her a few of the most popular hangouts and tourist attractions, including Inokashira Park. She'd felt her heart race when he'd caught her off-guard with a kiss, which she somehow didn't mind at all.

She had admitted to herself that she was attracted to him. He was good-looking, sweet, funny, and seemed to know exactly what to say to change her mood in mere seconds. However, she knew it was all nothing more than a night of fun and touring with a stranger in Tokyo. After the impending hangover that she knew was absolutely inevitable, she'd go on with her life, never to see him again.

Only thing to trouble her was the amount of alcohol in her system, and she was well-aware of the danger. It was both over the legal driving limit and enough to fog her better judgement and knock out someone of her stature of 5'3". Still, it wasn't the first time she'd been so intoxicated, and she was used to it, so she didn't expect anything significant to happen.

Unfortunately, it was the story of her life that nothing ever coursed in the direction she wanted or predicted.


	2. Chapter 2

**thank you PurplePixies13ofem for the review, and thanks for reading 'Time' as well. :)  
**

* * *

When Hiyori awoke the next morning, the first thing to register in her mind was the headache she was sure would split her head open. Her mouth felt as dry as sandpaper. Her head was spinning, and she felt like she was going to be sick. She was also very tempted to go right back to sleep for a full twenty-four hours.

The next was that she didn't recognize the room she was in. It was entirely too bright, white walls, white curtains, white sheets. The only things that weren't white were the doors (mahogany), the dressers (dark brown), the carpets (much lighter brown), and the golden bed frame.

Third, she now perceived that she wasn't the only occupant in the bed. It was a fairly small bed, small enough that if two people shared it, they would be close to pressing against each other. She felt the heat of another warm body next to hers, felt someone else's leg brushing against her own.

She had a sinking feeling she knew exactly who was with her. Sure enough, when she turned her head, there was the man she'd met and gone to Tokyo with last night. Shinji was his name, if she remembered correctly. He was lying on his back with his face turned away from her, still fast asleep.

This was when she fully took in the fact that she'd been holding the sheets over her chest, because she was naked. She briefly lifted the blankets and confirmed that Shinji was, too. She examined her own body to see a series of small bruises and red marks scattered across her chest, and took note of a dull, barely-there ache between her legs. Her brain was catching up slower than normal, so upon closer observation of the room, she looked down at the floor to see her dress and undergarments and Shinji's shirt, pants, and boxers lying on the carpet.

She wasn't truly surprised by any of this; it wasn't the first time this had happened, and she was sure it wouldn't be the last.

So although she was freaking out on the inside, she mostly just took it in stride, moving slowly so as not to wake Shinji. She reached down and picked up her clothes, slipping on her undergarments and pulling her dress over her head before she stood up on trembling legs. She looked back to assure Shinji was still asleep, then quietly gathered her belongings, sliding on her shoes and securing the strap of her purse around her neck.

She chanced another glance at Shinji before she knelt down next to his discarded pants and pulled out his wallet. She sorted through until she found what she was looking for, counting how much yen he carried with him. It wasn't nearly enough, but she knew she should leave a bit for him since it belonged to him. In the end, she took only three-fourths of the amount and stored it into her purse, then returned the wallet to his pocket.

She double-checked to make sure she had everything of hers. On her way to the door, she grabbed a bottle of water from the mini-refrigerator. With one final glimpse at Shinji, who still hadn't woken, she departed the hotel.

* * *

The woman, Hiyori, had left by the time Shinji awoke. He had no way to know where she'd gone; there was no note, no number, not even her purse left behind. All he had to prove that last night had indeed happened were his missing clothes, the marks on his skin, and of course the unbearable hangover.

He had to wonder just how much alcohol he'd consumed, as he couldn't really remember anything as he pulled on his clothes and shoes. He recalled going into a bar, talking to Hiyori, and taking her to Tokyo, but beyond that, his memory was blank.

As he adjusted his sleeves, he caught another clue, one that made his heart skip a beat.

A wedding ring adorned his left hand, a simple silver band with his name carved on the inside.

His next thought was to convince himself that he was seeing things; he was already feeling the usual effects of a hangover, and hallucinations were not unheard of. Yet deep down, he knew what he was seeing was very much real.

He began collecting his possessions. As he did this, he found the papers, legal documents with marriage promises, vows, violations, and even possible divorce references. Upon further inspection, these records were certified and finalized with the signatures of his name and Hiyori's.

So Hiyori Sarugaki was her name. Now it would be ten times easier to find her. Her first name was uncommon enough, but her last name was even more scarce. That, and he knew where she worked and at least two of the local clubs she visited.

He folded the papers and stored them in his wallet. He noticed most of his money was missing; considering how much he'd spent on alcohol, and what had been left over afterwards, he had no doubt Hiyori had taken a hefty sum of what remained. He remembered her mention of underground work, and if that was true. . .was she a thief, or maybe just gathering for a poverty organization? He had no idea.

He needed to find her, seek answers, ask why she'd stolen from him, figure out what they were going to do about the situation they'd gotten themselves into.

First thing to do, though, was rid himself of this hangover, or else he would get nothing accomplished. He'd go home and either take medication or sleep it off. Later, he would shower and change clothes, then go look for Hiyori either tonight or tomorrow morning. As soon as possible, anyway.

He opened the mini-refrigerator and seized a bottle of water before he left the room, hoping it would help to ease his headache.

* * *

Hiyori's roommate, Lisa, looked up from the book she was reading when she heard a key turning in the lock, the door swung open, and Hiyori stepped into the apartment.

Lisa couldn't say she was shocked by the sight of the blonde. Her hair was messy, hadn't been brushed, and there were shadows under her eyes. It wasn't hard to tell she had yet another hangover, if her skin color, more pale than it already was, was anything to judge by. Though her dress hid most of the marks on her chest, those that could be seen around her neck and collarbone didn't go unnoticed by Lisa.

The dark-haired woman shook her head and gave a small laugh. "Hey, where have you been all night?"

Hiyori looked slightly alarmed at the question, but quickly regained her composure. She couldn't afford to lose face in front of Lisa, not now. Even if she could tell her anything, she wouldn't, despite the fact Lisa had seen her in this state before. "Nothing. Just had a few drinks."

Lisa was still skeptical. "The entire night?"

"Yeah, the entire night," Hiyori said with a nod as she tossed her purse in a nearby chair. "I stayed with Mashiro."

Lisa stared at Hiyori in disbelief, knowing for a fact that her claim was false. "Mashiro was here last night, remember? She left just a little while ago to get breakfast, and she should be back anytime now."

As usual, Lisa was too observant, which, under the circumstances, made Hiyori uncomfortable and ignited her normally even temper. "Nothing happened, okay? I don't even remember anything because I was so drunk. I have a huge hangover, and I just want to rest for a few hours. Is that okay with you?"

Lisa had long grown used to Hiyori's frequent binge drinking after living together for seven years, as well as her bad temper in the aftermath, so she just sighed and returned to her book, amused but otherwise unfazed. "Okay. I'll save some breakfast when Mashiro gets back. Go get some rest."

"Okay, thank you," Hiyori replied, relieved, as she turned and made her way through the apartment to her bedroom, away from Lisa's intrusive questions.

* * *

At his home on the other side of town, Shinji was facing an interrogation of his own from his roommate Sosuke; to add to that, his friends Love and Rose were there, too. He called to mind that they had stayed the night; he hadn't minded then, but now he wished they would leave.

"Where the hell were you?" were Love's greeting words. "Thought you just went out for a few drinks?"

"Thought I was too," Shinji agreed.

"So what happened?" Rose asked, much calmer than his best friend.

Shinji shrugged as he took a seat next to Sosuke, who had barely looked up and had yet to say anything. "As far as I know, I ran into someone, went to Tokyo, and had a few too many."

"Who was it you ran into?" Love inquired.

Shinji tried to sound casual. "Just a girl I met."

"Is that so?"

"Tell us about her," Rose requested.

He held back for a moment. Even Sosuke, who was pretending to focus on his studies, was listening, as Shinji decided to continue. "Her name's Hiyori. She was by herself at the bar, didn't look interested in socializing, but I started talking to her. I thought it would be just small-talk, long enough for three or four drinks, but we kept talking the entire night when we drove to Tokyo."

"What did you talk about?" Love asked.

"Anything that came to mind," Shinij answered. "She was funny and smart and interesting. Kind of guarded, didn't give too much away, but the conversation just kept going somehow."

"Are you saying you like her?" Rose questioned with a knowing grin.

An image of Hiyori's blonde hair and pretty face, lit up with a friendly smile, came to his mind. He couldn't deny that he'd been attracted to her, but he honestly wasn't so sure if he liked her or not. After all, he'd only seen her alcoholic side, which he did like; however, he didn't know her at all sober. "I don't know. I may not ever even see her again."

"So what happened after Tokyo to make you stay out all night, then? You had to have crashed at some point," Rose pointed out.

Shinji smirked. "Funny you should ask."

"What do you mean?"

He hesitated again, his smirk fading. "Well, you see, judging by the scene I woke up to this morning. . .at some point, somehow Hiyori and I. . .well. . .we got married, ended up at a hotel, then. . .consummated said marriage. She also very likely stole most of the money I had left with me, then she was gone without so much as a farewell note."

Silence met his words, the other three men not quite knowing what to say, until Sosuke finally spoke. "That explains the ring, then."

Shinji looked down at the band on his left ring finger. "Yeah, I suppose it does. That's just what I'm assuming, anyway. I can't clearly remember anything. Suppose it'll all come back to me eventually."

"Let's hope so," Love commented. "I'm curious to hear the whole story, and more about this girl you met."

"Are you going to look for her, by the way?" Rose couldn't help but to ask.

Shinji didn't have a definite answer, as he wasn't sure of that himself yet. "I don't know. I know her full name from the wedding documents, and she told me where she works as a waitress, so it shouldn't be difficult to find her. . .but I haven't decided."

"Perhaps you should go get some sleep first," Sosuke suggested. "You have a hangover, don't you? That can't be pleasant."

"Yeah, you're right." Shinji yawned and stood. "When I wake up, if all three of you are still here, and I have my memory back, I'll give you the extended version. Then maybe I'll go look for Hiyori."

And with those words, Shinji made his way to his bedroom for a few hours of much needed sleep, hoping he remembered everything when he awoke.


	3. Chapter 3

**thank you for the reviews from PurplePixies13ofem, Kukiechan, and Shirochan21.  
**

* * *

Later that evening, Hiyori did not speak to Lisa and Mashiro, didn't tell them what had happened. She ate breakfast, changed into shorts and a t-shirt, and left the house for a small park close to her apartment in order to clear her head. It was only after she'd woken up that afternoon from her nap that she saw the ring on her left hand, and although she still couldn't clearly remember anything, she could only guess what had occurred the previous night. She felt a mix of different emotions: confusion, humiliation, anger, fear.

She knew exactly why she felt this way. It wasn't the first time this had happened; she'd gotten drunk and gone to bed with strangers before. Never had she mistakenly married them. She thought to herself, 'I must have really liked him to do something so stupid.'

She hadn't been in her right mind, hadn't been herself last night. Who she was drunk was the complete opposite of her sober self. Still, she'd chosen to drink more than what was healthy for her, and now she had to deal with the consequences.

She supposed she should go find Shinji to figure things out, but that was easier said than done. She had told him where she worked and the club where she occasionally performed, but he'd told her nothing but what he did for a living. She could search through local news stations and journalist companies, but what held her back was that she wasn't quite sure she really wanted to find him.

Did he want to find her? If he did, would he be able to? She knew he would if he tried. She could avoid the arts club for awhile, but all he had to do in retaliation was decide to visit the restaurant where she worked. He'd have her cornered in no time.

Taking a seat on a park bench, she pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her knees. The cool autumn breeze helped to accomplish her goal of trying to relax from recent events. It didn't make the problem go away, just as drinking didn't fend off her troubles (as Shinji had so kindly pointed out), but it did lend a hand to forcing the intensity of her emotions to cool down.

She thought back to what she knew about Shinji, trying to estimate how he'd handle this situation himself. Would he try to force her to stay in the marriage, or would he leave that decision up to her? Was he as nice and as much of a gentleman as he appeared? Then she asked herself, 'Should I try to make this work? Just because every other guy I've been with was terrible, doesn't mean Shinji is, too. He could be a good guy for me if I gave him a chance.'

She told herself not to be so foolish. She hardly knew this man, and if he was anything like other men she'd been with, she wasn't willing to take the chance. Shinji seemed fun and polite and gave the impression he knew how to treat a woman, but if that was who he was, why had he allowed himself to marry her and sleep with her in such a heavily intoxicated state?

Then again, why had she been careless enough to do the same thing?

Besides that, she did not now nor had she ever had any plans for marriage, and she doubted she ever would. Had she not gotten so ridiculously drunk, the wedding wouldn't have been held at all. If Shinji did find her, and requested a divorce, she'd be more than happy to agree.

She felt like a moron over the events of one night of such foolish, childish behavior, but she supposed things could be worse. There was nothing she could really do about it right now, either. She'd wasn't interested in any sort of relationship with this man she barely knew, so she'd wait for him to make the first move to end it before it began.

* * *

Monday morning before he went to work, Shinji found himself standing in front of a small red-brick building, old-fashioned, advertising posters pinned to the windows, curtains tied into an hourglass: the restaurant where Hiyori worked.

He didn't hesitate to pull open the door and walk inside. Compared to the chill of autumn, the interior was set at a decent, comfortable temperature. As it was a small place, there weren't many customers or waiters, but those who were there looked happy and well-serviced. Shinji felt relaxed by this atmosphere right away, which was fortunate considering what he was about to do.

He took a seat at a small table in the back by one of the windows. He took a quick glance around before opening the menu and browsing through it. He didn't see Hiyori anywhere, but he guessed she was in the kitchens at the moment. He made a mental note to keep an eye out for her, even if she didn't serve his table.

As it turned out, luck was on his side today.

His attention was snapped up and into focus when he caught sight of a short figure with pale blonde hair. He watched as another waitress said something to her before she picked up a small notepad from the cashier counter and made her way over to Shinji's table.

He was slightly taken aback by how different she looked outside the social scene of a bar. Her clothing was more casual: shorts and the uniform t-shirt and apron tied around her waist. Her hair was tied back into a simple ponytail, her bangs side-swept and tucked behind her ear. There was not a trace of makeup on her face, yet she still looked plenty attractive to him.

He forced his mind away from that as she approached his table, flipped the notepad open, and pulled out a pen from the pocket of her apron. She looked up and gave a friendly smile. "Hello, my name is Hiyori, and I will be your server this morning. Can I get you anything to drink?"

So this was the game she wanted to play, act like Friday night had never happened. He didn't plan to play along, but for now, he only returned the smile. "Just coffee is fine, thanks."

She scribbled the order and said, "Okay, I'll be back."

He watched her as she walked away, silently comparing the difference. Friday night, during their trip to Tokyo, she had moved with a confident strut, with absolutely no care in the world. Now, in the simple setting of a family-oriented diner, she maintained a more slow, casual stroll, her hips barely swaying.

He mentally berated himself again, reminding himself that wasn't why he was here. He continued his search through the menu for awhile before eventually making his decision. It didn't take long for Hiyori to return.

She set down the coffee in front of him, and he mumbled a thanks. She kept the amiable demeanor as she asked, "Are you ready to order?"

"Yes, I am," he said; he gave her his request, and she wrote it down.

"Anything else?" she asked.

He decided then to mention his purpose for approaching her. "Yes, actually. Is there a reason you're acting like you have no clue who I am?"

Her eyes flashed with a look that lasted no longer than a split second. Other than that, her expression didn't falter. All she said was, "I'll be back with your order. Let me know if you need anything else."

"I will, Hiyori."

She stiffened for another brief moment before she turned to go place his order. While he waited, he gazed out the window, losing himself in thought. He couldn't say he was surprised by Hiyori's reaction to his showing up at her workplace, and he was somewhat amused that she was acting like she'd never seen him before. Not that he could blame her; she had to display a professional act right now; that, and he could only guess that she was probably embarrassed about what had happened.

He was relieved when, once again, Hiyori made her way back to his table in hardly any time at all. She placed the plate next to his coffee and asked, "Need anything else? A refill, maybe?"

He pretended to think about it for a few seconds. "No refill, but how about five minutes to talk?"

Finally, the amicable facade completely collapsed, and he now noticed plain resentment etched across her face. "Now's not a good time, obviously."

That wasn't going to faze him. "What time is your shift over then? Or when's your first break?"

"Don't you have your own job to worry about?" she snapped.

"I don't start until noon," he replied, his tone still calm. "Don't avoid my question."

She hesitated, but answered to appease him, hoping it would make him leave sooner. "My shift is over at five. My first break is 11:30. Why?"

"Okay, great, my shift ends at six," he offered. "Why don't we meet somewhere around eight."

She heaved an impatient sigh. "What's the point?"

"Just to discuss what happened," he explained. "We need to decide what to do about it. A few minutes of your time is all I'm asking."

She considered for a moment before turning to go find another table to serve. "Let me think about it."

"I'll be right here waiting for an answer."

She gave him one last glare before she immediately displayed an affable expression and resumed her job.

* * *

She agreed to meet him at the same small local park she had visited to clear her head, and they sat together at a picnic table to talk. She wasn't one for wasting time, jumping straight to the reason they were meeting. "So tell me whatever you want to tell me."

"Hello to you, too," he replied. "How was your day?"

"Not important," she rebuffed. "We're married, but we're not married. Get to your point."

"So you found your ring. I noticed you aren't wearing it."

"Why should I? I just said we're not seriously married. Now either tell me what you want, or I'm leaving."

He sighed and gave a small laugh. "Fine. I want to know what we're going to do about this."

He held up his left hand, displaying the ring he still wore. Hiyori stared wordlessly, a small trace of animosity in her eyes. "What is it you want to do?"

"It's up to you."

"Don't say that." She made her anger completely present now, by both her eyes and her tone. "You don't have to leave every decision up to me. I'm asking what you want to do first."

"Honestly?" he asked, and she nodded. "I want to try."

She was speechless for a few seconds, but quickly regathered herself. "You're not serious."

"I am."

"Why?"

"Hiyori, I may have been drunk, but I meant what I said."

"Do you even remember anything you said?"

"I called you cute. I told you that you were funny and smart and nice to talk to and fun to be around. Do you remember anything you said?"

Judging by the sudden slight blush, she did, but she wasn't going to admit it. "Look, we got married on accident. I can't even recall the wedding taking place, so how do we know we even really got married. Maybe we just bought a couple of pretty rings."

"I found the papers at the hotel."

She seemed too startled to respond, so Shinji explained, "All the rules were printed out: the vows, our signatures; it was all there. We may have been drunk, but it's all legally legitimate."

She took a deep breath, and for the first time, Shinji noticed the fear in her eyes, so he smiled softly. "Hiyori, if you want a divorce just say so. I'm not going to make you stay in this thing if you don't want to."

A long silence followed his words, and when Hiyori looked up to speak, she had Shinji's undivided attention. "Like I said, we got married completely by accident because we got way too drunk. Had we not gotten that drunk, had we not even gone to Tokyo, this wouldn't have happened."

"Well, it did happen, so now we have to deal with it."

It was such a matter-of-fact statement that Hiyori did not know what to say to respond to it. Shinji made a daring move by reaching across the table and taking her hand in his. She tensed and her gaze snapped to their hands, but she did not pull away.

"Look, Hiyori, I know this might seem sudden and unnecessary, and we barely know each other, but I want to try a relationship and see where it goes. Give it a few months, maybe. If you don't want to, I will gather divorce papers, we'll sign them, and I'll never bother you again."

She wouldn't look at him now, her focus directed to their hands. Shinji thought to himself how different she was sober. Drunk, she was outgoing, talkative, opinionated; sober, however, she seemed more shy, cautious, reserved. Both sides were somehow equally endearing to him.

She seemed to finally decide, and she shook her head. "This is ridiculous, isn't it?"

"Very," he agreed.

She gave a small smile. "My answer is a no for now. Sorry. I still can't remember a damn thing that happened after we got to Tokyo, and I need time for my memory to come back."

"That's fine," he said. "I suppose I need a little while for my own memory, too."

"That, and relationships just aren't for me right now," she gave as a second example. "I'm not saying I want a divorce, but. . ."

"I understand," he said, finally pulling his hand away.

"You seem like a nice guy, if that helps."

"Thanks. So do you. A nice girl, I mean."

"Thanks, Shinji. If that's your real name," she added suspiciously.

"It is my real name," he laughed. "Hiyori is your real name, too, right?"

"Of course," she confirmed.

"One last thing. Saturday morning, when I woke up, most of the money I had left was gone. Do you know what happened to it?" he asked.

Hiyori blushed, and she had the appearance of someone who had been found guilty of a crime, her eyes guarded. She averted her eyes and said, "Yeah. I uh. . .I took it."

"Any particular reason why?"

Her blush deepened even further. She tried to force it away as an inquisitive look crossed her face. "I didn't specify about my underground work, did I?"

"No, you refused to say anything other than that," he said after a moment's thought.

"Okay, good," she said, reaching down to her purse. Shinji couldn't see what she was doing, but he heard the rustling of paper, and he was taken aback as she held the mentioned yen out to him. "Take it. It's yours."

He accepted, storing the money back in its place in his wallet. "So you're not going to tell why you took it in the first place?"

"No, it's not important," she said hastily. "Sorry."

"No problem, I guess," he shrugged. "Well, I guess I'll see you around."

"Yeah, see you around," she repeated, and before he could say anything else, without any word of farewell, she stood and made her departure.

Her swift retreat left him more confused than ever, and he thought to himself, 'You're hiding something, aren't you? Who are you, Hiyori?'

He'd find the answer to both questions.


End file.
